All That Mattered
by wonderwall05
Summary: Five years after the final battle, a new order has surfaced. They call themselves the Resistance and in the dead of night they capture Hermione searching for the answers to Voldemort's defeat. But, she is not as alone as she may think.
1. Shadows

Her body aches and a thousand fires burn on her skin. Yet, she stays curled into a ball on the cold stone floor. Her own two arms, wrapped tight around her legs, are the only comfort left. At first she told herself it would not be long, they would come for her. Harry and Ron would find her; that was the thought that kept her going. But, her intelligence had prodded holes in this belief as each day passed; each day, which brought new pain at the hands of her tormenters, each day which passed slower then the last.

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Later, much later, when her mind had cleared a bit, she'd wonder how exactly the Resistance members breached the wards the Order had placed around her house. She would wonder how they had _found_ her, when powerful wizards and witches had set up the protection around her home. Home, a distant thing now; she wouldn't return there again.

A flash. Black masks with holes through, which peered cold, cruel eyes.

"_Incarcerous_," The spell was said calmly and Hermione did not have a chance to fight. That was the most frightening of all, during the war she had survived by battling, by cursing, hexing, whatever necessary. Faced with that sort of death, Hermione could be brave, courageous. But, not like this. _Not like this! _Her mind screamed in her terror.

There was laughter as she struggled, uselessly she knew, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Look at the little Mudblood," The voice was raspy and made her shiver. The man, who had spoken, was beside the one who had cast the spell. He was tall and bulky between his dark robes, their uniform very similar to those of the Death Eater's, yet each robe bore a crest with a wand shooting out blood red sparks, which glinted in the faint light in her apartment.

They were shadows against the walls, where pictures of Harry and Ron looked on horrified. They were shadows against the furniture she had inherited from her parents.

_Shadows in the night. _

The panic was making her thoughts disjointed, fuzzy. She was terrified; she had never felt less like a Gryffindor.

"Don't worry little girl," Hermione flinched back horrified at the cooing voice. _Bellatrix,_ her mind whispered. But, that was impossible she was dead. She saw the mouth quirk up at the edges into a sadistic smile, and she wondered if the woman knew what she was thinking. "We only want to ask you some questions," The rest of them laughed, and the woman smiled harshly down at her, her eyes unwavering and dark.

Hermione was dragged to her feet, shuddering as she was held against a soft body, before the pull of Apparation took her away.

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Gray stone, rough cut blocks. Cold, moist stone her cheek was pressed against. Decay, mold, and that rusty dry smell that was blood filtered through her nose causing bile to rise at the back her throat. She blinked her eyes, wincing as her swollen eyelids pulsed with pain. Hermione raggedly tried to push herself up, gasping at the myriad of pains that flared at the gentle motion.

They'd had questions alright and methods for trying to extract answers.

Trying she thought viciously, they would not succeed.

It was five years after the war. Five years was no time at all after such devastation. So many dead, so many lost. Remus, Tonks, George… yet this Resistance flourished. Hermione shivered at the thought of the war and at this new order hell bent on equal destruction.

And apparently they thought their success lay in discovering how Harry had defeated Voldemort. Harry, who had been truthful. Who had spoken about what Dumbledore had explained – about love. But, like Voldemort this Resistance, couldn't accept that as the truth.

The least she could do was drag this on. Make them think she had some secret, make them think she knew something.

She would give them nothing; she hoped they were well satisfied.

These thoughts spiraled through a mind drugged with pain. She lay against the floor trying to summon the strength to at least roll over. She raised her head looking around her cell and gasped.

She was not alone.

His face and hair were grimy with dirt and blood. His nose was crooked and his eyes were circled by dark bruises that caused his eyes to swell almost shut. Through the slits of his eyes she could see the stains of blood where vessels had popped.

"Granger, fancy meeting you here," His voice was aloof except where it cracked from thirst towards the end. She stared in silence at him. She hadn't seen him since the final battle, hadn't really heard anything. Hadn't cared – he might not have killed Dumbledore but – Hermione felt a desperate fury build within her. She felt the need to scream and cry. Her hand covered her mouth as a slight whimper left her.

Even in her near hysteria, she studied every one of his expressions. At the sound of her whimper, he appeared to flinch and draw in a breath. She stared at him, would he see her hate, her anger? She saw the scowl, the tightening at the corners of his eyes. She believed he understood.

Hermione examined his body further examining the cuts, the bruises, the bloodstains apparent through his little clothing. She refused to feel pity for him, he didn't deserve it. She wondered how he had found himself here. Did the Resistance kidnap him like they had her?

They were two of the most unlikely people to be captured by the same group.

Different groups possibly, the Order for him, the Resistance for her. It didn't make sense.

"Don't try and figure it out, Granger, it will only cause you more pain," Malfoy said and she noticed the faint slur in his words. She looked at him questioningly.

"Why I'm here. You won't guess correct," He smirked a bit, always satisfied with one upping her. She watched him, thinking over her response. He wasn't a child anymore, she could tell from the haunted look on his face.

"No worries there, Malfoy. I was only wondering how much longer they would keep you," Hermione kept her voice blank although she knew her eyes radiated her hate. "I'm sure they're close to being done with you, there is only so much torture can extract after all." She wanted her words to hurt him, wound him as much – if not more – then the torture did. She wanted him to feel expendable, to make him feel like his death was imminent – and that she certainly wouldn't care when it occurred.

His face was blank as he studied her. She glared back at him. I _hate _you, she thought. She wanted to destroy him.

She wondered when she had gotten so angry.

_A crumpled body at the base of a tower; tears and anger and despair. _

"You most certainly have changed. Quite malicious for a member of the Golden Trio," She turned her face from him.

"It's a dog eat dog world out there Malfoy," She didn't turn back to see if he understood the Muggle saying or if he heard her bitterness. As far as she was concerned their conversation was over.

They sit in silence. No words can be exchanged to describe her hate, or his hate. Or anything.

She doesn't want to ask him how long they have tortured him, she doesn't want to know. She can't bear the thought of knowing how long her sentence will be, although she is sure that Harry and Ron will find her. They'll find her. They must.

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A/N: This was fic I built completely off the first paragraph which I had written long ago. I want to thank Solstice Muse and her story 'Within These Walls' that inspired the setting for my story. (Make sure to check out her story it is amazing and profound). The chapters will be a bit random in length, etc. But, I hope you enjoy it.


	2. To Bits

Hermione tried to hold in the scream, tried to resist, _be strong_, Harry whispered to her.

'I can't.' And she stopped trying, letting the guttural, animal sound to rip through her body. She knew, even as her eyes screwed up in pain, that the Resistance member was smiling in satisfaction.

Chip, chip, chip.

They were trying to break her to bits. Piece by piece they tried. Hermione's scream died away as the burning water was turned away from her skin. Everywhere it hurt, scalded, her skin a fiery red.

'Red, Ron.' She thought deliriously. Her mind spinning, soft whimpers tore up her trachea as her thoughts wandered to her friend.

"Are you about ready to behave yourself, ?" The women asked her voice stern, but Hermione could hear the amusement. 'You sick bitch,' she growled, her anger clearing a way through the pain.

"Well, are you ready to stop being a hormonal bitch?" Hermione asked casually, a hell of a lot more calmly then she thought she would be able to manage. "Because if you are maybe I'll….no, no I don't think I'll ever behave." She wanted to rile the bitch, make that calm façade crack a bit. She wanted to know if _she _could be cracked. Just a little at least. But, the woman merely gazed at Hermione, her lips quirked up at the edge.

"Now, you're surprisingly tenacious for a person who was just screaming and writhing in pain," The woman said smiling at Hermione's scowl, which instantly became a gasp as her skin pulled. She moved forward, eyes narrowing and darkening, all amusement gone. "You would do well to mind your betters, _mudblood_," She growled into Hermione's ear. "Especially when your life is at my mercy," She whispered the words, caressing Hermione's skin and causing her to yelp.

There was no warning as Hermione was slashed across her bare back with solid object. She screamed, eyes bulging as her already blistered skin discovered a new depth of pain.

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Hermione lay on the floor, the cold damp floor, which should have been soothing to her burning, _scorching _skin yet, somehow managed to be as painful as the heat rising from her body.

"Granger – "

"Fuck off Malfoy," She growled trying to move as little of her skin as necessary. She heard Malfoy swear and mutter to himself a bit.

"You're bloody amazing! How do you manage to keep up the spite with your skin burned and flayed?" He asked, actually sounding amazed that she had the energy.

"I'd have to say it's because even with my skin burned and flayed you're still as fucking annoying as ever. Now shut your goddamn mouth," Hermione hissed out. Malfoy actually laughed a bit. They sat in silence once more, and Hermione fought the urge to twitch, to move, to fucking _breath_ for Christ's sakes! Many things beyond her skin were bothering her right now.

The first was the rescue that she was becoming seriously worried about.

Worried because it had been two weeks, and there was nothing, no sign or hint of even an attempt.

Second because she wanted to cry and cry and cry, but she couldn't because Malfoy was here.

Third was because Malfoy seemed to be an entirely different person then when she had known him before.

And she hated him for it. Truth be told she would hate him for anything. Even if he set up an orphanage for puppies and kittens, which would really piss her off. She hated him.

"They'll heal you Granger," He said suddenly his voice quiet – and dare she say worried? "Always healed me after the worst, they let you sit for a while let it sink in just enough and then they'll heal you. Always incompletely, but enough that you don't die."

"How comforting," She murmured, resenting his words because they made her feel just a little bit better. Death would be a comfort now. The cold and dark would be a pleasure to behold.

She stopped herself from internally muttering those cowardly words.

"Will it end?" She found herself asking, and she couldn't become angry with herself for letting the words slip. It did take quite a bit of energy – the spite that is.

"I think you know the answer to that one already," Malfoy said quietly, and she could almost see his sad, devastated face.

Please, just take me.

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Malfoy was right.

They did heal her.

And she didn't die.

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	3. Fallen Star

**Warning: Some religious discussion later in this chapter that could be deemed offensive. I am not trying to offend anyone, but rather reflect the state of mind both Hermione and Draco are in. **

1 month. Hermione had counted the days, refusing to lose time in this grey stone hell. 1 month and nothing. She still had that little seed of hope in her soul, but it was slowly dying without nutrition.

They would find her, but it would all depend on how they would find her.

It was Draco's turn today. He had become Draco to her. When you had seen someone tortured, seen them cry, and beg and plead. There were few barriers left. She knew it was due to her resignation (that this would be the place where she died – in so many ways) that she no longer cared.

What was enmity when every day you fought against pain to stay alive, to stay sane?

Ironically enough, he was the only other person in this place with a speck of humanity. Hermione thought this funny, if not slightly twisted. Draco Malfoy was the kindest person around. She would laugh, if she could find her voice.

The door creaked open, stone separating from stone, in a different place each day so neither she nor Draco could think of escaping. How could you when you don't know the way out?

His body was thrust through the door and he let out a yelp of pain, as every smarting piece of him was bashed against the stone. She cringed, but made no move to help him, she eyed the black robed figure that merely stood silently observing Draco's pain. He whimpered and the figure didn't even shift, Hermione gritted her teeth resisting the urge to curse at him, it would do neither of them any good.

Draco and she might have developed some form of camaraderie, but in the end they were both looking after their own skin.

That point was clear when after being delivered from torture one day the Resistance member proceeded to beat Draco in front of Hermione and she had not moved.

He hadn't asked why and she provided no explanations or apologies. She was keeping herself alive. If they could provide some comfort to each other in this square hell, it was merely that another human being was experiencing this vicious cruelty. Nothing else.

Sometimes they spoke to one another, words soft in a way that they chose not to observe. They talked about everything, but the pain. That was a subject that could not be broached.

So, Hermione sat silently as the man proceeded to kick Draco's legs out of the way before pulling the door closed.

"Welcome back to purgatory," Hermione said leaning her head back against the wall, while still keeping Draco in her eyesight. She knew he would understand the reference; he was surprisingly well informed on Muggle religion for a pureblood.

"And to think I missed this," He murmured before falling silent. That was enough indication of his pain, but even if she had wanted to help him become more comfortable she couldn't. She looked at her leg in a sort of dull interest, all horror washed away. A bright white shone out of her shins where the bones protruded, it conjured up images of a savannah with carcasses feasted upon by the big predator before being picked clean by the vultures. Hermione shook herself out of stupor, looking at the wall, in order to calm her raging stomach.

Not a pretty sight at all.

Her thoughts bounced around, and she dimly noted that she was most likely in some pain induced haze. She wondered what she looked like; would they give her a mirror if she asked?

She chuckled darkly, most likely not.

But, did she even want to see the image it would present? In the end would it be Hermione Granger looking back at her or someone else entirely. Would she see a girl who had been abused and beaten down? A girl that had given up and given in to forces more powerful then herself? Or would it even be something resembling a human being? Would she find an animate corpse, everything taken from it, but its ability to breathe?

Hermione found herself suddenly much less curious.

"Granger, you know what I was just thinking?" Draco said his voice muffled slightly as his face was pointed at the floor.

"Malfoy, that's exactly what I was wondering about," Her voice was dull even to her ears; they resorted to formalities in the end. He was only Draco in her mind.

She wondered what she was in his.

She shook the thought away, it was the pain talking.

"Were you listening Granger?" Draco said sounding slightly perturbed, he got this way when she didn't take his banter seriously.

"No, something must have distracted me…..maybe like my ability to see my shin bones," She said harshly without any real heat behind it.

"Oh stop whining!" Draco insisted and she almost saw him smirking and rolling his eyes. She knew his little mannerisms too well. "As I was saying your comment on purgatory got me thinking." She waited for the revelation that his mind had produced.

"Muggles worship this idol, this God, in a similar way in which the Death Eater's revered Voldemort. Don't you find the juxtaposition amusing? Two entirely different representations, yet each elicit the same general reaction. I mean not to say many of the Death Eater's loved old Voldy, but I mean there were those who worshipped his drive, his intelligence, and his ruthlessness." He paused for a moment, composing his thoughts maybe? Hermione continued to listen intently, interested in the direction he was going. "This Muggle God, he's known for his ruthlessness as well; what are the plagues on Egypt, the flood, or the expulsion from Paradise if not brutal? Yet, they worship, they die for him." He chuckled with actual humor. "Indeed I believe Voldemort is the better of the two don't you? At least he could die, and he did."

The end was a whisper, and she thought, _'yes how we thought it would end with that, how we wanted that death, but look at us now'_.

"At least he never placed expectations on his followers, like God did on his. There are no seven deadly sins among his coven, in fact he encouraged them! Every single one! I suppose sloth of course would be debatable, yet that can of course be explained in the fact that he asked them to slow their thoughts, stop them even, because logic would've destroyed the excuse they provided to slaughter."

"Where's the devil in this equation Malfoy? All these pretty words about God, yet if you are to orate on the similarities of Voldemort and God, then obviously God's opposite should be brought into the equation. " She paused taking in his silence, she knew his brow crinkled as she cut through his argument, could almost see the annoyance there. But, of course he'd compose himself to rebut. "Please don't try and sell me some drivel on Dumbledore being Satan, because I refuse to believe that even you, with your arrogance, could make such an argument. There's no use in comparing Satan's quest to usurp God to Dumbledore's fight against Voldemort." She didn't bother to see what affect mentioning Headmasters' name might have on the man lying prone on the floor.

Already so helpless, maybe it was meant as a jab at him, to show she wasn't weakening.

"Isn't it obvious, Granger?" Draco's voice was slightly triumphant and was curious at what he thought up. "'the old serpent', 'the fallen star', he who brought 'death into the world', now, now I quite think you'll like this Granger; clever little mind and all, you must see the connections." But, no she still drew a blank and it irked her to know he had caused it.

"Just spit it out Malfoy, I can how insufferably proud you are to have thought it up," Hermione said smiling slightly as he huffed. "I don't know and I am rather curious to see what you've concocted to try and continue your silly little argument." Give a little, take a little that was the way of their relationship.

"Well, Granger, it's Snape of course." He paused for effect and she sat shocked by his conclusion.

She wasn't about to give him anything.

"Continue Malfoy, I want to hear your reasoning behind this," Hermione said voice composed.

"Should've known, bloody bookworm." Draco muttered, "Dumbledore could never be Satan to Voldemort's God because of course he was never one with Voldemort. Yet, Snape no matter his allegiances in the end was a Death Eater, and a devoted one at that. Isn't it ironic that Lucifer, the Morning Star, was motivated by greed – something the Muggle God named to be a sin; while Snape was motivated by love – something all the more worse to Voldemort?" Hermione remained silent intrigued by his fervor, he made an interesting argument. "So yes, they were both fallen stars in their own rights, although of course Snape's betrayal was less evident. Yet, they both worked to usurp their previous master. Lucifer's quest of course, if you believe what the Muggle book says, quest is unceasing until that far off day called the apocalypse, the end of mankind – pardon me 'humankind' – " Hermione nodded, even though he couldn't see, at his inclusion of females " – yet, Snape's quest included the same finality. His death symbolized in turn Voldemort's. Also there's the aspect of Voldemort's belief that his murder of Snape would give him the necessary power to rule supreme." He paused for breath, effect, whatever it was it didn't matter. Hermione was caught up in his words, his reasoning. It was beautiful in its own way. Of course, even before her discovery of magic, she had not been a deeply religious person. Her parents were more so, bringing her to church on holidays and the occasional Sunday. So perhaps this blasphemy held a beauty only to her.

"In this sense you could compare God's necessity to defeat Satan to gain all power. Now, I know you may argue that God does have supreme power, but let us not forget a little lady named Eve, free will, etc. So, although Voldemort was deluded – in more ways then one – perhaps God is as well because there must be good and evil as much as there must be dark and light. Without the other we cannot conceptualize either." Draco stopped panting slightly from either pain or his own amazement at his words. Hermione stayed silent with him allowing the elegance and enthusiasm of his words to sink in. Deeper and deeper, before pulling herself back, and providing the hard back bone that was necessary to keep them separate.

"Bloody hell Malfoy, when did you get so damn philosophical?" She heard him snort.

"Don't be absurd Granger – " He started, but she cut him off carelessly.

"No seriously Malfoy, I would never think the day would come when I heard _you_ wax on about religion, Muggle at that, not just the little cult your old buddy created. I'll just have to escape this little hell-hole so I can amaze someone with the recollection of this conversation." Hermione grinned slightly.

"Oh go bugger yourself," He muttered and she knew his ego was bruised. But it was better that way.

"Yet, though it pains me, you presented a rather intriguing argument. Perhaps you should write a dissertation on the matter, call it 'Malfoy Maligns God and All Else that is Holy'." He chuckled slightly.

"Fuck a dissertation, I'll write a bloody novel on the subject! I'll let you do the cover art Granger, since you'll surely be missing out on the celebrity." Draco said in amusement, but Hermione seized up slightly at his casual reference to their collaborating in a future, she couldn't see.

Future, being anything that was outside the walls that surrounded her.

"I wouldn't say my imagination would be up to the task," She said darkly. He must've felt the change in her, although he didn't know what triggered it.

"Just a joke Granger, but, then again all you do is dark humor these days, eh?" Draco spat out.

"Then you must be the light, since neither can exist without the other, right?" She prompted but he remained silent. The pain must be sinking in now that his fervor was gone, she was almost sorry.

Almost.

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	4. Feels Like

"My little mudblood, I've missed playing with you," That sickly sweet voice whispered in her ear, Hermione shuddered at the feel of moist, hot air against her neck, "You provide me with so much entertainment." She kept her eyes closed. Maybe she should be watching, to prepare for what was coming next, but she couldn't stand seeing the perverted little smile on the woman's face.

That smile begged for her sanity, told her to release it. For if some one could smile while inflicting unspeakable pain upon another human being, then surely there was no hope left for the world.

These people would always exist, Hermione thought tiredly. We slowed the procession by defeating Voldemort, but these people will always march forward. She was too tired for hope, for optimism.

_Where are you? Why have you left me here all alone?_

"It could stop if you wanted, dear." She whispered in Hermione's ear, stroking her filthy hair and she cringed away from the gentle touch, "Tell me what I need to know and it will end." Hermione was not naïve enough to believe that it would end any other way then in her death.

She wasn't ready for it to end. Not yet, no, she was too much of a coward to embrace death just yet.

Even if it meant the pain would stop? The question was greeted by silence in her mind.

Hermione wrenched her head away from the woman's hand glaring at her hatefully.

"I suppose that is answer enough," The woman smiled tightly, as much as it must've pleased her to continue to torture Hermione, she wanted answers.

_I'm no fighter but I'm fighting  
This whole world seems uninviting  
But I don't give up, no, I don't ever give up_

She hoped.

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"Whatever happened to you and Weasley?" Draco questioned as they slouched in their respective corners.

"If this is going to bring on a round of teasing and quips about the demise of our furry offspring, I refuse to continue." Hermione said smiling at the man across from her slightly. The corners allowed themselves to be supported, slightly surrounded for once, and it was amusing the fact that they both found themselves getting into the habit of sitting in opposite corners so that they could see each other.

"Just trying to stir up some small talk," His voice was decidedly too bored, it betrayed an actual interest.

"If you must pry, it just wasn't meant to be," Hermione said leaving it at that.

"Oh, you can't just give me some trite answer and think I'll accept it! I'm not that thick, so spit it out."

"You are such a prat, Malfoy – oh contain yourself! Fine if you must know…" She trailed off at the end fiddling with the tattered edge of her shirt.

"Haven't got all day Granger – " He cut himself off with a laugh, "Actually I do have all day!"

"Very funny," Hermione said dryly, twisted sense of humor that one had.

"Alright the end of the 7 years of Weasley – Granger sexual tension story, I've got to know. Can't say I'm not curious. Always thought you would end up popping out little red headed brats," Draco said, but his voice was honest and without any cruelty behind. Like this was some accepted fact of life.

"That's just it! Right there. I loved Ron – love Ron, but I wasn't going to be what he expected of a girlfriend, lover, whatever!" Hermione noticed how intently he was watching her, his face blank as he studied her. Letting nothing go. "That's what did it really, you know? The expectations, I felt like Harry for a bit, everyone was coming up and asking when we were getting married. I was bloody 21! And people were asking 'bout wedding bells?" She stopped her rant, sighing slightly and absentmindedly running a hand through her hair before it got caught in the numberless tangles. Although Draco smirked at this, his face remained serious.

"In the end it was a school girl crush and neither of us could live up to what we had pictured. If the expectations didn't do us in, then certainly the disappointment did. When you wake up in the morning and the person lying next to you is unrecognizable, it's time to call it quits." Hermione stopped almost cringing at the speculative look on Draco's face. "But, then again red never suited me." She tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

She'd let far too much go. There went all her carefully crafted barriers.

"But, what about you and Pansy? Not that I can say I know how that went, you avoided the limelight after the war, and well…I avoided you," Hermione said truthfully, watching as his face closed down a bit at the mention of their classmate.

"Parkinson, yes," He surprised her in his use of the girl's last name. "What can I say there, besides good riddance?" He smirked just slightly, "Pan – Parkinson was always just a tool, and the end like most tools she lost her use." Hermione wasn't entirely surprised by his callousness, but possibly a part of her was disappointed. Maybe she had come to expect a little more? She shook herself internally. This was Draco Malfoy, and she shouldn't have forgotten that fact.

"So, that was the end of it then," Hermione said trying to break the silence. She studied his face as he looked down at his hands. Closing and opening them slowly, a little shake in them.

"Yes, in simple terms. Yes, the end of it." His words were a quiet murmur.

"What happened to her?" She asked innocent of what answer she would receive.

"She died, or more correctly she was murdered." Words too calm to not hold some actual emotion. Hermione remained silent, hearing that one of her classmates, even one she didn't like, had died was stunning. She wondered if he would just leave it at that. "Pureblood families tend to take loyalty quite seriously, and she changed allegiances, which was unforgivable, punishable in the harshest of ways."

"Are you saying….that her family killed her?" She whispered appalled and taking in his slight nod with horror. "But-t what for? Who did she switch her allegiances to?" The man looked up at her, silver eyes dull around the edges with a burning fire within.

"Me."

Not so callous after all Draco, are we? A malevolent part of whispered at his admission. She could see the hurt burning there, the loss. For once she didn't try to prod him to show she wasn't weak. Even she could not bear to inflict further pain on the already suffering man.

Her throat constricted as she wanted to utter words of reassurance, but she couldn't, she wouldn't. She merely kept contact with his eyes; let him interpret the message there as he may.

"Do you have anyone waiting for you on the outside?" The question startled her and she stumbled over her words.

"Well, Harry and Ron I suppo – "

"I mean. A boyfriend, a lover, a whatever," His voice was so light compared to the burning sadness that had been apparent in his eyes just moments before that it took her a while to respond. She recognized her words from before. She was slightly thrown, but composed herself.

"No I don't," She said quietly and he gave her a questioning look, as if to say 'keep going, I'm listening'. It was all over daunting that she could read him so well.

"Its…its just I'm 24 now and I've had two, dare I call them, romances in my life." Hermione sighed. "It's just I don't expect much to come, if I was destined have some great love I figure it would've already come," He opened his mouth to speak but she raised his hand to stop him. "Just let me explain, I don't expect to have some fairy tale ending, though they exist they are rare, but also I don't expect a happy ending. An ending where you argue with your spouse over stupid nonsense for no reason and you start to let yourself go, but still really do love each other. Maybe some of us are just meant to be alone; maybe that is what I'm destined for." There was an unfathomable expression on his face. "In the end there are those on the fringe who don't get either ending, they just end up alone." Hermione gulped slightly fighting back the urge to cry, she hadn't said that to anyone. And she cursed herself for letting him pull it out of her.

She wouldn't cry in front of him, she hadn't in all the time they had spent together. He had never seen her tears within these walls, and he wouldn't, now, over such nonsense.

"Maybe you're right Granger," Draco murmured and she was surprised by his lack of teasing, "But, did you ever pause to think that perhaps there aren't just two alternatives? Isn't it possible that there is an ending that doesn't have to be fairy tale or happy that has two people ending up together?" She sat silently studying him. "So you haven't been swept away by some boring little hero saving you from distress, there's no ivory tower in your future. Alright, accept that Granger. I never took you for the type to be boring enough to want that for themselves."

"Excuse me Malfoy? Is it so bad that I want to be _happy_?"

"Oh don't give me that sorry excuse! Happy is fine, but just because people tell you that you can only have it a certain way most certainly does not mean its true! Where's your fire Gryffindor? Were you really going to settle for that? Since when have you needed to be rescued?! If you wanted that you should've stuck with Weasley or Potter. Things are tough, get used to it, they'll rarely go your way, accept it! But, don't sit there putting on that little pout and giving in because_ things were too hard!_"

"Oh, you have no idea what you're talking about Malfoy! Your entire life you wanted to grow up to be branded like cattle, just like dear old daddy. You worshipped a megalomaniac along with the rest of them. For all your pretty comparisons on God and Voldemort, you believed it all! What do you know about happy? All you wanted was power, and now look at you?" She pulled an ugly smirk, her face twisting in her rage. "You are just as low as the filthy mudblood you used to taunt in school. In the end your _fucking_ blood wasn't worth a damn! How does it feel having everything taken from you? All you had grown up with wasn't enough to protect you! Those Resistance members treat you just as bad as me. Does it irk you Malfoy, to know you're considered no better than a mudblood? WHERE IS YOUR ANGER MALFOY?" She shouted the last part, leaving herself panting. His eyes were dark as a scowl marred his face.

Hermione had to know why that dirty word hadn't slipped through his mouth once in all the time they had spent here together. He had never mentioned her blood at all. Not one word; and she had to know why.

"Don't you see Granger?" He said quietly, his voice tight, but not menacing, "I'm not angry because I know that!" Hermione felt shock spread across her face. She turned her face away sharply before her indecision showed on her face.

There was silence between them and she did not know how to break it. She tried to force all emotion out of her, she couldn't weaken towards him. He was still Malfoy; she couldn't, _couldn't_ forget that!

"You assume too much Granger," His voice is tired, but she doesn't look his way. "Just because I allowed myself to be drawn into folly by the people I admired does not mean that I don't regret it. I was a child, and I made mistakes. I have to reconcile myself with that. But, that does not give you the right to pass such judgments on me." He spoke no more, he didn't need a response from her and she would not give him any.

She had given too much already, and she felt herself slipping.

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For a while there was silence between them. She wouldn't break down and apologize to him for what, she painfully admitted to herself, were some pretty thoughtless comments.

She knew he had changed, whether it had begun in this cell, or if it had started earlier. (It didn't matter which, although a part of her asked what the reason for the change was, perhaps…she stopped that thought). Though, she tried to keep her distance there wouldn't be anything wrong with allowing herself to show him some understanding, at least. To let him know, that she _knew_ he wasn't the heartless bastard she used to think he was. He had shown her that much.

He had shown her that he didn't care about her blood. He didn't care when he used a scrap of his shirt to wipe it away from a gash on her head. He didn't care when it had gotten on his hands. He didn't care that it was smeared across his forehead after he had wiped his sweaty brow.

Hermione groaned internally as the guilt washed over her. Guilt was a weakness she couldn't afford, because, even if, by some slight chance, she and Malfoy were becoming amicable, she still had to worry about keeping herself alive.

That would be so much harder if she felt something for him.

In the end it was altogether an extremely ironic situation. She, Hermione Granger, needed to apologize to Draco Malfoy for being insensitive. It was a cold day in hell.

'Ron and Harry won't believe it when I tell them…'

She stopped herself short because that felt a little like unfaithfulness. After everything that had happened between them and Malfoy, she was pretty sure they wouldn't find the amusement in the situation.

But, then again, it was Malfoy who occupied this cell with her. Malfoy who underwent this excruciating torture with her. Malfoy who wiped away her blood and kept her sane.

That felt like betrayal too.

'Yet, they haven't saved me,' Hermione thought, 'and that is the biggest betrayal of all.'

Malfoy had saved her many times over.

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	5. This is what it feels like

She was sure that this time she would die. She felt her bones splinter to tear through her skin before driving back in.

That was her last thought. A welcoming blackness engulfed her.

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This must be what death felt like. It was far more uncomfortable then she thought it would be. Her body was chilled and she shivered against the cold. Her body was slumped awkwardly, upper body propped up on something, while her head lolled over the edge.

"Granger, fuck. Come on Hermione," A voice rasps and she flinches as a drop of something lands on her cheek. She tries to open her eyes, but it feels as if heavy weights had been attached to her eyelashes keeping them closed.

She feels a warm burning pass over her arms as if someone was trying to chafe her skin. Hermione shies away from the contact, her senses too muddled to understand whether it was painful or soothing.

"Hermione?" There was the voice again; it cracks in the middle of her name.

Where was she? She had always thought when you died everything simply ended. She never believed there was some utopia on the other side, where St. Peter would usher her through those golden gates. That everything she wanted would be waiting for her. Remus, Tonks, George, Dumbledore….Mom…Dad. She never believed she could be that lucky.

So, this situation was confusing her. She most certainly wasn't in heaven; she was far too uncomfortable for that.

She wasn't in hell either because she was too comfortable for that.

Although her body aches and her head pounds, she was not in any severe pain.

So where was she?

Suddenly a smothering fear drapes itself. Where was she? Where had she gone when the blackness had enveloped her? A small whimper passes her lips as she shifted.

"Hermione – please open your eyes," The voiced chokes off, "Please – please be sane!"

Sane? She was fucking dead for Merlin's sake! What did sane have to do with it. She gave one last effort to open her eyes and after some effort she succeeds. She blinks a few times trying to clear the blurriness from her vision. She freezes staring up at the person above her.

"Draco?" She says, surprising herself for not only saying it aloud, but for how weak her voice sounded. So the Resistance had finally tired of them both.

"Thank Merlin," His words were a mere whisper, and his look of contorted pain eases slightly.

"They killed you as well?" She asks and confusion flashes over his features.

"What are you on about Granger?" He growls at her.

"Well, I'm dead; aren't I?" Hermione says staring at him, wondering why confusion spreads across his face once more, before a small frown graces his features.

"You aren't, but you very nearly were." His words are tight and he looks away from her then. She wasn't dead? What had happened? "They tortured you so severely that you didn't gain consciousness when they returned you. You wouldn't wake up, and your breathing was so shallow – I thought," He pauses, eyes still directed at the wall and his jaw clenches. Hermione feels the urge to smooth away the hardness there, but she does not have the strength to. "They came after awhile to retrieve me and saw your state. They healed you, but that didn't mean that your mind had endured it. It didn't mean you would survive." He stops then and she sees a drop of moisture roll down his face, to quiver at the edge of his chin.

"Don't cry," She says softly, weakly reaching forward to wipe away the tear. He is crying for her, and this goes beyond anything she has ever experienced. "I'm here, I'm alive." She whispers, her hand cupping his chin. Draco closes his eyes and leans down to place his head upon her chest. She doesn't feel his body heave with sobs, she doesn't feel tears, she only feels the warmth that slowly begins to flow through her body and she stops shivering.

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The atmosphere had changed between them. They never mentioned the very tender moment they had shared with each other, but it was present.

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They hadn't seen it coming. Hermione had not been aware to how much Draco had given away to the Resistance members. Because they knew now, they knew what their two prisoners meant to each other.

And then he was gone.

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	6. A Thousand Fires

When they had taken him away at first, Hermione thought it would be like any other day. She had even fallen into a restless slumber before awaking a while later confused and alone.

She felt the worry gnawing at her bones and it only intensified the pain from her previous torture.

It was harder to endure without him here with her.

She realized that all her barriers had been worthless, because while she hadn't been paying attention she had come to recognize safety with him. If he could survive then she could as well.

That was the first time she thought he might be dead, because he had always come back before. Worse for wear, in pain, tired, sad, wounded, but he always came back.

She squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop the flow of so many painful feelings. She couldn't stand the worry, the pain, or the guilt.

He had shown worry for _her_, and because of that he was gone.

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"Do you miss him?" The voice was deceiving, it was quiet but nowhere was there any softness or sympathy. Those emotions were distant things for the woman addressing her. Hermione wondered if she had ever felt love or any sort of compassion, anything that would make her slightly human. "Does his death make you weep…_Hermione_?" Her name was cooed in a mockery of any sort of feeling. There was only hatred there, and anger, eons and eons of anger.

_Yes, oh god yes. _

But, her hate was too strong, and she knew he would've fought.

Hermione watched the spit gleaming on the woman's face with a certain glee.

_Kill me you bitch, just do it. _

The woman looked her deeply in the eyes for a moment, and Hermione saw a madness sparkling there reminiscent of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"_Crucio,_" And Hermione's body jerked in a frenzied dance from where she hung suspended from the ceiling, as every last nerve ending exploded in a blinding pain.

_I'm not afraid anymore. _

It would not stop for a while, the pain. The darkness that surrounded her was inviting if only so that she didn't see his face behind her eyelids.

_I'm sorry._

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Her body aches and a thousand fires burn on her skin. Yet, she stays curled into a ball on the cold stone floor. Her own two arms, wrapped tight around her legs, are the only comfort left. At first she told herself it would not be long, they would come for her. Harry and Ron would find her; that was the thought that kept her going. But, her intelligence had prodded holes in this belief as each day passed; each day, which brought new pain at the hands of her tormenters, each day which passed slower then the last.

While, he had lived with her in this cell, while he had breathed, and laughed, and joked, while he had waxed philosophically on about God and Voldemort, while he had shown her that she wasn't alone in this cold, cruel world she could hope. But, now, the tiny seed they had been nurturing together was gone.

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Slowly, slowly she began to fade. She wondered if they noticed. Maybe they did, who knew why they still kept her. There were no answers in her. It had been months, surely they knew. But, they kept her there for some sick psychotic pleasure. Maybe there cause had already been defeated like the ones before it, and there was nothing left. Maybe they had won, yet still they kept her as a bit of entertainment. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

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	7. All That Mattered

She had woken from her sleep to loud sounds outside her cell. She had been confused, her eyes blank as explosions rang out.

Shouldn't she be feeling something besides this emptiness?

This sounded like a rescue. Yet, Hermione did not move from her position on the floor. The walls appeared to shudder, and she blinked as dust fell on her face.

Suddenly the door slid open directly across from her. She almost didn't have the strength to look up from the bootless feet to see who had entered.

There was no hope left here.

But, when they paused and she didn't experience some excruciating pain, her curiosity peaked slightly, and she raised her head.

Hermione knew somewhere deep, deep inside that this wasn't insanity finally making its appearance known. Hungrily she drank in the figure before her.

No, no. This was real, had to be real. She let a tiny sob break past her lips.

"Oh, what did they do to you?" The voice whispered and she couldn't fight her eyelids as they closed, unwilling to let tears fall, because _it_ was real, because he _was_ here. Draco was alive and that was enough. He knelt down in front of her.

Voices reverberated down the hall, and suddenly he tensed.

"I'm getting you out of here, I promise." She nodded as he lifted her into his arms, her own going around his neck, clasping her to him. A wand tightly clasped in his hands. As figures appeared in the doorway, they disappeared.

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For a while, she couldn't distinguish between reality and dreams. She wondered whether she had misjudged the state of her mind, because how could she be lying in a soft bed surrounded by a down comforter in front of a roaring fire.

A place she had never been before in her life. Was it possible that it was all imagined? Something brought on by a tortured mind, a broken mind?

But, did the insane ponder their own insanity? She doubted it, and that gave her some small comfort.

And he was there, so she didn't really care either way.

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It was a few days before Hermione became fully aware. One moment she was reliving some of her darkest moments and the next she was awake, drenched in her own sweat. She looked around cautiously and everything seemed clear. She recognized this place from feverish glances.

The room was spacious, yet the dark paneling and sumptuous furniture kept it from seeming too open. The bed she lay in was carved from ebony and supported a canopy of rich red brocade above her head. She blinked slightly trying to chase away the last vestiges of sleep.

There was a minor stiffness in her body, but besides that she felt no pain. Curiosity getting the better of her, she slid out of the bed feet falling almost perfectly into a pair of plush slippers.

She smiled, digging her toes into the soft cushions. Slowly she got up, feeling the slightest of twinges in her chest, before she walked to the door, grabbing a discarded robe to wrap protectively around her body.

She wanted to find him. If the finery was any indication she was in Malfoy Manor. She exited the room and meandered down the hall. Hermione gazed back at the portraits unashamedly as they whispered, what she was sure were not kind words. She walked for a while lost in contemplation, what would she say to him? How could she possibly thank him for saving her?

Hermione was shocked out of her reverie when a door slammed open a few meters down the hall.

"What do you mean; you don't know where she is?" She saw a flash of intense blond as the person paused in the doorway. "I told you _specifically_ to keep watch on her at all times! If she –" Draco paused suddenly as he took in her form.

"Granger," He breathed, the angry expression quickly morphed into something much more vulnerable. He seemed unable to form words for a moment, before he controlled his expression. "You shouldn't be out of bed," His tone implied she was in for a lecture.

"All I've been is in bed," She said blithely, although technically she couldn't remember any of it. "I'm quite sick of it honestly." He simply watched her then and she quivered underneath his inspection. His eyes wandered over her body in a completely dispassionate way as if by just looking at her he could tell if she was alright.

"Still, at least you should sit." He insisted and he opened the door wider, motioning for her to approach him. She did without thought and walked past him into the room. Her eyes widened as she took in the magnitude of the room, the ceiling had to be at least 12 meters tall and the walls were _covered _in books. She heard him shut the door behind her and speak in hushed tones to someone, but she was entranced. She walked over to the closest book case and began to perusing them. Titles she had only in her dreams imagined being able to hold, to read continued shelf after shelf.

"Amazing," she murmured reaching a hand forward.

The spark that enflamed her skin, when he grasped her wrist gently, was like none other she had experienced. It had all the intensity of the cruciatus, but with none of the pain. Rather it radiated through her body with an encompassing heat. She felt a flush rise on her cheeks, as she looked at him. His eyes were liquid pools of silver and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Enough time to look later, but now you need to eat." With that he released his grasp and walked over to a cluster of chairs set before a raging fire. Hermione took a breath and followed him. A tray filled with every delicacy was set on the coffee table and without thought she dove in, attempting to sate her now apparent hunger.

She felt his eyes on her, observing her every move, and another flush spread across her cheeks. When she had finished she sat back against the chair, drawing her legs up so she could rest her chin on her knees and watch him.

He stared back unabashedly, his chin settled on his palm. A tense silence settled between them.

"What happened Draco?" Hermione whispered, finally voicing the question that had plagued her even in her delirious state. It encompassed so many things. How was he alive? How did he escape from their captors? How did he get a wand? How did he save her? They were all questions she needed the answers to.

"They took me and at first I thought they might kill me, but," He looked her, "They wanted to torture me with your death first." He was silent and she understood what he felt and what he couldn't say, because there weren't words for that misery they had lived in. "Towards the end they got careless, I suppose I was so unresponsive that they didn't believe I posed any threat." She knew what flashed before his eyes when they had that faraway look. "And for a while it wouldn't have mattered, I didn't care. It seemed natural to just wait for death to come for me. But one day when they were bringing me back to my cell, I just saw it. They were dragging me back and I saw the wand sticking out his pocket." His eyes were alive now, and she wondered at how much it taken for him to grasp the wand. "I subdued them and then I went searching for you. The cell wasn't easy to find, they had tremendous amounts of enchantments on it, but I found it somehow." He looked at her then his eyes burning with a fire she had never seen. "And then I saw you." His voice was low, ragged. She wondered what sight she had presented.

"At first it was so like the other time, I thought you were dead- " He paused averting his eyes for a moment. "But, then I saw that your eyes moved and I feared that it was worse. That you were just a shell." She saw the white around his knuckles as he grasped the arms of his chair, his face tightened and she longed to smooth the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

His eyes never left hers as she inched forward slightly, and though she did not give into that temptation, she slowly pried his hand from the chair before taking it in her own.

"I'm alive," She murmured, her words a repetition of that other moment they had shared, but now they were a world away, "We're together." That was what mattered.

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The next day she would feel guilty that she hadn't thought to immediately contact Ron and Harry. But, she blamed her addled priorities on her weakened state, for although she had finally regained consciousness, she was still very weak.

Draco _(not only in her mind now)_ had informed her as kindly as he could, that they had both been presumed, although not declared, dead. She had asked immediately for parchment and a quill and penned a letter to Harry and Ron. She had given them the floo address to the Manor, much to Draco's ire. Once the owl had flown out the window, with what she knew would be earth shattering news for her two friends, she returned to the couch to wait besides him.

They watched the flames in silence, and she felt how tense he sat besides her. Without looking she opened her hand between them, and was answered as he placed his much larger one in hers. They waited together.

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The flames had burned suddenly ferocious and she saw just the outlines of a body. Her heart beat a violent rhythm against her chest.

A mop of black hair emerged from the flames quickly followed by the body of Harry Potter. He immediately looked up, his eyes affixing on her face. He stumbled just slightly as Ron burst out after him. She stood then, squeezing Draco's hand tightly before letting go.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice was strangled, and she saw tears shining behind his glasses. It came out as a question, because god she knew he wondered whether it could possibly be her.

"It's me." She said quietly. Harry burst forward with sudden speed embracing her tightly in his arms. She felt as Ron wrapped his arms around her as well. They squeezed her and she felt hot tears fall on her cheeks. But, she would not cry now. Not for this, this was too good for tears. She had used her tears only for the most terrible of moments, and this was far too beautiful of a moment to mar it with her tears. They pulled back, arms still wrapped around her, keeping her with them, to look at her face.

Their smiles were radiant, yet shattered slightly around the edges. Relief and pain all rolled into one, she thought, noticing that Draco slipped quietly out of the room.

"We thought we lost you," They whispered in her ears, and she felt happiness radiate from that spot between her breasts where she thought her love had died.

She had wondered what she would feel when she saw them.

Would she feel the betrayal she had felt within her cell? Would she be angry, would she rage at them with questions of their loyalty?

_Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you find me? ._

But, she was pleased that those feelings had disappeared when she had left her prison.

They wanted to know everything; they wanted details, murder shining in their eyes. But, she couldn't tell them. She couldn't inflict pain on them, where once a part of her would have thought it just repayment.

Then there were the questions about Malfoy. They were hesitant to believe he was uninvolved, when he had finally reentered the room, Ron had charged at him, face red with anger, and demanded to know if it was his doing.

Hermione had been the one to stop him, while Draco's face remained impassive in the face of her friend's fury. She had grabbed Ron's bicep yanking him away from Draco.

"Stop, don't you dare," she shouted, pushing him in the chest, and making him stumble just slightly shock clear on his face. Harry had stood then, hand on wand, confusion clouding his face.

"Hermione…" Ron whispered, his face contorting when he saw how she took _his_ hand and comforted _him,_ while she stared at Ron like he was the devil.

"No, Ron." She said her voice calmer now, she held a palm up, begging him to listen, to stop, _please just listen_, and he did grudgingly. "He kept me alive, Ron. If not for him, I'd be dead. That is not a maybe that is a certainty." And Hermione had not wanted to cause them pain (but this was a truth that had to be told) and with those words their faces had folded in showing the depth of their despair, and guilt.

They had wanted to take her away with them and she had refused. They hadn't asked questions, but they couldn't hide their looks of confusion, and maybe revulsion, and hurt and all those nasty little things, because she was choosing him over them, and clasping his hand in hers like they might try to rip them apart. Like they would force her away, like they would hurt her now. She couldn't resent them because they didn't know yet, they didn't understand, but they would soon.

They were bonded; they had taken each other's pain and made it into a manageable thing. Within the gray stone hell they had kept each other alive, sane, together.

And that was all that mattered.


End file.
